“You wear dead animal hide to cover your flesh.”

Spike frowned, “You mean the coat?”

Illyria circles him, pale eyes unblinking, a glassy stare. “It reeks of death. I cannot endure it.”

“Yeah, sorry ‘bout that.”

“You have taken many lives. The screams of each soul echo through its stitches. They call to me. They invigorate me, but it’s too much in this barren existence.”

“What about you then? What’s with the lobster look?”

Her head inclines mechanically, “I wear the skins of thousands of my closest devotees.”

“I’d hate to see what you do to someone you don’t like.”